


Arrest, Please!

by masquerace



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst, Bitty Is A Prison Boss, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Jack is innocent, Jack's Overdose, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, One Of The Falconers Is A Piece Of Shit, Providence Falconers, References to Drugs, jack's anxiety, the check please prison au that we apparently needed, vague references to a past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-08-02 08:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16301204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masquerace/pseuds/masquerace
Summary: Jack Zimmermann had finally gotten back on his feet after his famous overdose, but misperceptions and situations out of his control have pulled his dreams away from him and landed him in prison. The people there aren't as mean as he expects, but he still knows he doesn't belong there. But did this career-ruining mishap actually land him exactly where he needed to be?





	1. Chapter 1

“Clear.”

Jack took a deep breath to try and steady his breathing. A panic attack wouldn’t help anything at the best of times, let alone now. The guard pushed him a little, to get him moving, and Jack felt like his whole body was on autopilot. It wasn’t even his fault, but with his track record, no one questioned it. He could still hear the tinge of fear in his dad’s voice when he promised Jack they’d do everything they could to get the charges reversed. Even if he managed that, it didn’t matter. His career was as good as over. The Falconers wouldn’t take him back after this—and he doubted any other team would be clamoring for him in a year’s time. 

The guard lead him into an open cell-block. It was nicer than some of the others Jack spotted on their walk over, but cement blocks and hard beds were still cement blocks and hard beds. Each nook had two beds and four eyes peering at him as he walked past. He wondered how many of the men in here would recognize him.

“Alright, Zimmermann. This is you. Knight—behave yourself.”

Jack’s new bunkmate grinned at the guard from under a surprisingly well-groomed moustache. “Aw, Sargent Hall, you know I’m always on my best behavior.” 

Sargent Hall huffed and headed back out the block. The other prisoner—god, he was a prisoner now, wasn’t he?—stuck a hand out towards Jack.

“The name’s Knight, but you can call me Shitty. Welcome to Block S, brah.” 

Jack hesitated before taking the hand in front of him and giving it a quick shake. “Uh, Jack. Thanks.”

“Y’know, for a capable-looking guy, you seem pretty spooked. Wait, wait, wait, wait. Hang on, you look familiar. Do I know you?”

“Um.”

“Wait, Hall called you Zimmermann—you wouldn’t be—”

“Yeah.” Jack tried to swallow around the lump in his throat and plopped down on the empty bed. “I—Yeah. I’m probably who you think I am.” 

Shitty scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “No way. I played hockey during undergrad, y’know.” 

Jack blinked at him.

“Forward. Right wing. Was pretty good too if I do say so myself. Too bad I went into law instead then, huh?” Shitty laughed a little a flopped back on his back.

“Wait, you’re a lawyer?”

“Yup.”

“Then—” Jack stopped himself before he finished asking the question on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t sure if asking how someone got arrested was rude or not.

Shitty simply laughed again. “Nah, it’s fine. I was leading this protest against this one corporation who was dealing in some seriously shady shit when it suddenly turned violent. They pegged me as the leader, and I couldn’t smooth-talk my way out of it. It didn’t help that they found that weed in my car either. So now I’m here, and it’s going to be a bitch to convince people to let me practice law again.”

“Oh, well, that’s not so bad.” Jack paused. “I mean, it’s bad because you got arrested, obviously, but… I… sorry.”

“But I didn’t kill anyone?” Shitty raised an eyebrow at him. “Damn, you are spooked. How in the hell did a softy like you end up here?”

And once Shitty asked, it was like Jack couldn’t help pouring everything out. About how he’d always hidden his anxiety from everyone aside from his coaches and his parents. About how one of his teammates saw him take one of his anxiety pills during a panic attack and didn’t understand what he saw. About the routine drug check in the locker rooms that turned out three tiny bags of cocaine in his stall, when he’d never even thought about touching the stuff. About how no one tried to question it because of his past overdose, which the public thought was cocaine when it was really on his anxiety meds. About how he was scared and just wanted to go home.

He wasn’t sure why he was telling Shitty all of this. All Jack knew is that if he tried to keep it in, it felt like he would shake apart completely. He didn’t even realize he _was_ shaking until he felt Shitty’s hands gently grab his forearms.

“Hey, hey, hey. Jackie-boy. Take a deep breath. C’mon. In… Out… Good.”

Jack gulped down a few breaths until he felt his heart rate calm down a bit. “’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, my bro. Sounds like you’ve been given a shit hand. You’ll get out of this. I know you will. And I’ll help you out as long as I can, ‘kay?”

“Why… why are you being so nice to me?”

Shitty looked at him with a twinge of sadness in his eyes before letting go of Jack’s arms and standing up. “Because you’re a good dude. I can tell. You’re a good dude who doesn’t deserve to be here.”

“Thanks.”

He looked down at Jack and grinned. “I hope you know this means we’re best friends now, JZ. Now follow me, you magnificent specimen you. I’m gonna introduce you to some of the cool fuckers who live in Block S with us.”

Jack helplessly followed Shitty out of their little nook and across the room, popping in to various other nooks so Shitty could introduce Jack. He met two bunkmates joined at the hip named Oluransi and Birkholtz, who were arrested on four counts of arson charges. Chow, who got caught breaking into the nearby aquarium, was across from them, and his neighbor Nurse, who was part of the same protest that brought in Shitty.

So far, everyone seemed so nice, and it was really throwing Jack for a loop. This was supposed to be prison, not some sort of summer camp. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. If it didn’t soon, Jack felt like his anxiety was going to suffocate him.

“There are a couple other fuckers I want you to meet, like Chow’s and Nurse’s bunkmates,” Shitty was saying as they walked back to their nook, “but they’re all part of the kitchen staff, so it’s gonna be a minute before you’ll see them. I’ll introduce you once they get off duty at dinner.”

“Wait, the kitchen staff has prisoners on it?”

Shitty blinked at him. “Well, yeah. The only outside people they let in here are the Warden, the guards, and the doctors. I’m sure you’ll get visitation rights pretty soon, though, so you’ll get to see people from the outside, too. They’ll come by to get your list of approved contacts when they clear you for it.”

Jack frowned. He knew his parents would maybe come and see him, but they didn’t even live in the US anymore. If they weren’t able to clear the charges soon, they’d probably go home. That would leave his team as the only people close enough who might want to see him, but Jack wasn’t sure if _he_ wanted to see _them_. They were the ones who caused this in the first place. A nasty voice reminded Jack that it was also his fault for being so careless, but he pushed it aside.

Instead, he opted to bother Shitty. “Who’s on your list?”

“Larissa Duan.” His entire face lit up when he said her name. “She’s my best friend, bro. And like, my fiancée? But whatever. She’s great. If you want, I’ll talk to her on the next visiting day and give her a heads up if you want her to come see you too. I mean, if you don’t have anyone else. I feel like you’d get along great.”

Jack frowned. “Is…is that even allowed? I don’t even know her.”

“It totally is, as long as you don’t directly tell the guards that. She does it for Bitty, too.”

“Who…who’s Bitty?” 

“Chow’s bunkmate. Head of the kitchen staff. His whole family’s down in Georgia, so there’s no one around here to visit him. I’m pretty sure Bitty’s teaching Larissa how to bake during their visits.” Shitty shrugged. 

The guards soon came around to escort Block S down to the cafeteria for dinner, and Jack started feeling more like he was actually in prison again. He felt completely powerless as the guards hustled them down the hallways while critiquing their every movement more so than any hockey coach Jack had ever worked with. He kept having to remind himself to breathe. Although, only one thing kept going through his head.

_I don’t belong here._

_I don’t belong here._

_I don’t belong here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the S in Block S stands for Samwell.
> 
> I'm not even sure how this happened but!! Here we go I guess!!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack meets Bitty. It goes about as well as you would probably expect.

Jack wasn’t sure what he expected the prison cafeteria to look like, but he wouldn’t say he was in any way surprised. Long benches set up in rows in a big, open space. The food line reminded him of the cafeterias in those cliché high school romcoms his mother liked to watch—except with more security grating. The walls were the same dull off-white as the rest of the prison, and Jack kept thinking about how his teammates used to call his apartment a “beige hell-hole.” They had clearly never been inside of a prison before. 

Then he remembered why he got arrested in the first place and decided to stop thinking about the Falconers. 

Shitty nudged him forward, earning a sharp glare from a nearby guard over the physical contact, towards the dinner line. Honestly, Jack felt too sick to stomach any food, regardless of how tasty he insisted it would be, especially when all he wanted to do was spend the next year as invisible as possible, and even more especially when his lawyer had already told him that they weren’t going to let him continue taking his anxiety medication while he was there. The less he interacted with people the better.

“Dex, you beautiful man, please tell me what those golden hands of yours are feeding me tonight.” Shitty had his face almost pressed against the wire barrier, walking a fine line between acceptable and getting penalized by one of the guards. Jack tapped his fingers on his thigh to relieve some of his nervous energy.

Dex rolled his eyes on the other side of the barrier and dropped the pan he was carrying none too gently on the counter. “Some sort of chicken thing. I think Bitty’s finally given up on naming everything. There’s garlic.”

“Garlic? Eric Bittle, you _madman_. Where is that little fucker? I want to tell him I love him.” 

“I was wondering when you were gonna get here, Shits.”

Jack glanced up at the sound of the most saccharine southern accent he had ever heard. He didn’t run across Southerners too often around the hockey circuit, let alone in Providence. His eyes met a pair of warm brown ones, crinkled a little in his amused expression. Jack’s heart thrummed in his chest.

_If I don’t belong here, there’s no way in hell he does._

Bitty’s eyebrows quirked upwards. “Take in a new stray, Shitty?”

“Listen, Bits, you’re gonna love him. This is Jack, and he’s got a heart of pure motherfucking gold, brah.” Shitty clapped Jack on the back, and Jack felt himself stiffen.

“Not replacing me, are you?”

“What? Never!” Shitty clasped a hand to his chest, scandalized. “You’re irreplaceable, and you know it.”

Bitty laughed, and it sounded far too sweet for where they were. “Well, it’s still nice to hear. Not that I don’t think you’re as sweet as sugar, Jack, but these are my boys. I take care of ‘em. I’ve gotta make sure they stay grateful.”

“Can I eat now?”

Bitty blinked at Jack’s bluntness, his smile fading, and two of the other kitchen staff members stiffened. They shifted a bit, as if they wanted to do something but realized they were on opposite sides of the metal barrier.

Bitty held up a hand softly. “Ollie, Wicky—Go make sure that the next batch of sauce isn’t burning.”

They scurried off, and Jack suddenly felt weirdly intimidated by the man half a foot shorter than him. He finally noticed Shitty staring at him incredulously, which prompted a cold feeling to settle in his gut.

“Right, well, that is why you’re here. Dex, get—Jack? Was it?—his dinner. I’ll be out to join y’all once the rest of the block gets their food.”

Jack and Shitty ate in silence at their bench while waiting for the rest of their little group to get their dinner. Jack wasn’t even sure if he could consider himself a part of the group, especially after whatever happened with Bitty. Shitty had looked at him like he just signed his death sentence, which is ridiculous considering the person he apparently offended had the face of a cherub. He half expected Shitty to continue ignoring him for the rest of their time together, but instead Shitty cleared his throat. 

“You can’t do that.” 

“What?” Jack paused, the piece of chicken on his fork less than an inch from his mouth.

“That. Uh, be rude to Bitty. You can’t.” He paused. “Listen, you’re new. You don’t know, but Bitty is the one reason why this prison doesn’t feel like prison. Like, yeah, the guards will throw your ass in solitary if you don’t keep your mouth shut, but when they knock you to the ground because they decide they don’t like the way you’re looking at them, Bitty will be there to bandage up your bruises. So… you can’t get on his bad side. Okay?”

Jack bit the chicken off his fork.

“Jack. Bro. I have to know if you understand.” 

He sighed. “I don’t get it.”

“God _fucking_ —”

“How does a guy like that end up here? Huh, Shits? And the way you’re talking about him, he’s been in here a _while_. And, and… Everyone just. Accepts that? I’ve knocked down bigger and meaner guys on the ice, and he’s the one you want me to be afraid of?”

Shitty sighed and opened his mouth to answer but immediately froze instead. Jack looked over his shoulder to see Bitty, flanked by a group of the other guys from Block S.

“I don’t think you should be afraid of me.” Bitty sat down across from Jack and leaned on the table. “And I don’t think that’s what Shitty meant. I know I’m not scary or intimidating. Believe me—that ship sailed the second I fell in love with baking. But I do expect a certain amount of respect for helping make things easier on y’all around here. You don’t have to like me or trust me, Jack, but I also won’t make you any promises.”

Jack didn’t like the way Bitty’s eyes narrowed when he said that, and he kept his mouth shut. He reminded himself that as soon as his parents and his lawyer figured out who framed him, he’d be set free in a heartbeat, so it didn’t matter if he pleased the man sitting across from him. Worst case scenario, he’d be forced to spend the full year in prison, but even if his name was never cleared, there was still a good chance he’d be released early as long as he kept his head down and his mouth shut. 

The rest of the table had moved on to normal conversation with Bitty laughing at a story Oluransi and Birkholtz were telling. Shitty kept flashing him worried looks, and Jack tried to pointedly avoid eye contact with him. He liked Shitty—really. But at the end of the day, Jack wasn’t there to make friends. He didn’t need their pity, and he most certainly didn’t need their help. Let alone help from blond men who clearly thought too much of themselves. Jack huffed under his breath.

 _And people think_ I’m  _a narcissist._  

Shitty tried to talk to him when they got back to their nook after dinner, but Jack laid down on his bed and shut his eyes. He really needed to sleep. As he drifted off, he bitterly wondered if he could sleep for the duration of his whole sentence.


	3. Chapter 3

The longer Jack spent in the prison, the less hope he had that he would ever be proven innocent. After managing to alienate most of Block S on his first day, he spent most of his time alone. Thinking. Jogging. He felt lucky he had access to the prison track, which was a thought he never expected to have. Running was something he did on instinct. He ran to keep himself in shape, he ran to focus his thoughts, he ran to beat his anxiety into submission. It was as ingrained into him as playing hockey was, and there was no way he was getting a chance to do that any time soon. Even if the prison had a pond they could freeze over, Jack doubted the guards would willingly fork over ice skates to convicted criminals. The fact that he was considered one of those convicted criminals made him run faster. 

The guard barked at him to slow it down, and Jack forced himself to comply.

Shitty found him, eventually. The guard, clearly bored of watching Jack run in endless circles in an empty field, perked up when he saw Shitty wander in. They hadn’t spoken much in the three weeks Jack had been there, but compared to the rest of their block, it seemed like a lot. He still didn’t understand what sort of weird power Bitty had over the rest of them. The effects of that power, though—that he could see.

“How long have you been going at it?”

Jack huffed a little. “Dunno. Since breakfast.”

“Dude.” Shitty ran a hand through his hair. “You’re going to kill yourself doing that.”

“Shits, I’m a professional athlete. I’ve barely broken a sweat.”

Shitty opened his mouth as if to argue the point further, but as if he realized Jack wasn’t going to stop, he swore instead and ran out to join Jack in his circuit. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“I’m not making you do anything.”

“You are! I can’t keep shouting at you from across a field, brah. That’s no way to hold a conversation.” 

Jack cracked a grin. “You’re out here because you want conversation?”

“I’d offer you a hug, but then we’d both get a shot.”

That made Jack laugh. It felt good to laugh a little, despite the horrible situation. Remembering that he was chatting with an actual criminal—minor offense or no—made him only laugh harder. Jack stumbled to a stop and put his hands on his knees.

Shitty slid to a stop beside him. “Damn, I never thought I’d get a laugh out of you.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“You’re so serious all the time. Didn’t think you knew how to be anything other than that.”

Jack’s smile faded. “We’re in prison, Shitty. Not exactly a place for much fun.”

“You’d be surprised, Jackie-boy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think I even want to know what you mean by that.”

Shitty only shrugged.

“Anyway,” Jack straightened up, “What did you want?”

He saw a flash of concern on Shitty’s face that made him uncharacteristically uneasy. Jack knew things had been going too smoothly, and this was the precursor to his quiet prison sentence getting thrown to the wolves. The guard shouted at them that they had to keep moving if they wanted to stay outside, so they reluctantly started jogging again.

“Just to talk.”

“Just to _talk_?” 

“About… Bitty.”

“God damn it, Shits.” Jack sighed heavily and briefly clenched his hands into fists. “I don’t care how nice and caring you think he is. I’m friends with you, and that’s really all I need.”

“Aw, you consider us friends?”

“Acquaintances. Roommates. Whatever.”

Shitty grinned at him, a small sparkle in his eye. “You’re a big softy, aren’t you? You do this whole ‘grr I don’t need friends’ thing, but you’re exactly as soft as I pegged you the first day we met.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jack sped up just enough to outpace Shitty without having the guard yell at him again. 

“You’re doing it right now!”

“Can’t hear you. Running.” 

“That’s so much bullshit, Jack Zimmermann!” 

Jack grinned again despite himself, but he bit back his smile when Shitty caught up to him again. Based on the look on his face, Shitty saw the grin anyway.

“You’re avoiding the subject, brah.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Shitty let out an exasperated sigh. “Bitty.”

“Oh.”

“He’s worried about you.”

Jack scoffed, earning an exasperated grunt from Shitty.

“He is! Well, he might not have said as much, but I can tell that’s the underlying cause of it. Trust me, things get so much better in here when you let these other guys in—and that starts with Bitty.”

Letting out a frustrated huff, Jack was glad they were having this conversation while they were running. “I don’t understand why you guys even listen to him. He’s hardly any sort of leader, and it’s not like he can offer any kind of protection. We’re adults. We shouldn’t need someone to mother us, especially when we’re facing accountability for our actions.”

“I thought you were innocent.”

“I am, but that doesn’t change anything.” 

Shitty didn’t have a response for that. Jack almost felt guilty for snapping at him, but he really wanted this subject to drop.

“Look, I get befriending the guy who makes the food, but I don’t understand why so many of you have signed yourselves over to him.”

“He just wants to talk to you, Jack. You should let him.” Shitty’s voice sounded softer than usual, and Jack couldn’t fight back the guilt over that. Shitty, despite his name and the fact he was in prison, was a good guy, and he didn’t deserve to put up with Jack’s… Jack-ness.

Even so, he knew he was right.

Jack raised an eyebrow at Shitty. “He wants to talk to me? Really? Shits, you’re the only one who’s so much as looked at me since I first got here. I think I would notice if he wanted to talk to me.”

“That’s…” He sighed, “That’s not how it works. Bits doesn’t go out of his way to interact with people unless he has to. That’s why we’re here. To make sure he’s okay, so he continues to make sure _we’re_ okay. It’s a give-give situation.”

“It’s ridiculous. You can tell him that I’ll only talk to him if he comes up to me himself. I’m not going to play these stupid games he’s set up.”

Shitty slowed to a stop, letting Jack keep running ahead. Jack felt like he should have felt bad about snapping at Shitty, but he really didn’t. He was fine with the way things had been going for him. Things were quiet, and he kept out of trouble. No matter who was calling the shots, Jack knew that getting caught up in some sort of prison _gang_ would only get himself in trouble. Trouble that could lead to a longer sentence for a crime he ultimately did not commit. He didn’t have the energy for playing a ridiculous game orchestrated by someone who Jack could care less about.


	4. Chapter 4

The second he saw two of the guys who usually hung around Bitty leaning on either side of the bathroom door, Jack knew he was in for a bad time. They eyed him carefully as he trailed behind Shitty, and warning bells went off in his head. He tried to remember their names. Jack wasn’t sure why, but he felt like things would go better for him if he could remember their names. Wicks and O’Meara. He thought.

Shitty was rambling quietly beside him as they made their way down the hallway. “—But you don’t have to worry about _that_ because you’re a good guy, right?”

Jack hummed distractedly. “Sure.”

“ _Jack_.”

“What?” He glanced over at Shitty and felt a bit of apprehension prick up when he saw how stressed he looked. “We’re just going to talk, right? I’m not about to get jumped or anything, am I?”

Shitty shook his head. “No. You’re right. I just keep thinking about what happened with Whisk.”

“Wait, what? Who’s Whisk? What happened to him?” 

“Don’t worry about it. Go talk to Bitty, and just…” Shitty grinned, clearly trying to get Jack to relax. “…Be yourself.”

Jack took a deep breath and nodded at Wicks and O’Meara before pushing through the bathroom door. Bitty was standing at the sinks with his back to the door, and Jack swore he looked utterly exhausted. That changed when Bitty heard his footsteps on the tile, though. His head perked up, and he spun around with a warm smile.

“I’m glad you decided to come, Jack.”

Jack crossed his arms and waited, staying silent.

Bitty’s smile faltered. “Oh, come on, I’m just curious. We haven’t had someone new in our block in ages, and it’s not like you’ve given me a lot of opportunity to get to know you organically.”

“Why does it matter?” 

“You…” Bitty sighed. “You won’t make it here. Alone. And, no, that’s not a threat. It’s a fact of life around here. Lord, there is a reason why solitary is the worst punishment they think to give us.”

Jack let his shoulders drop a little. “That still doesn’t explain why you care.”

“Has anyone told you why I’m here?”

The sudden question made Jack frown, and he thought better of asking what that had to do with his question. He hadn’t heard much about Bitty aside from Shitty singing his constant praises, actually. Even so, Jack hadn’t been able to shake his curiosity as to how someone who was apparently “the embodiment of love and sunshine” ended up in prison. 

“No.”

Bitty nodded slowly. “I stole a car.”

“You… You stole a car.”

“Yep.”

Bitty turned back to the sink and took a deep breath. “I made it across seven states before I got pulled over.”

“That’s… Impressive?” Jack frowned harder, even more confused as to where this was going.

“I didn’t want to steal the stupid car. I could care less about the car. It was his fault that I didn’t still have my car, but _no_ , he convinced me that selling it was a good idea.” Bitty took another deep breath. “He convinced me that a lot of things were good ideas.”

“He, uh, sounds like a dick.”

Bitty cracked a smile at him through the reflection in the mirror, and Jack suddenly wasn’t worried about what was going to happen to him in that bathroom.

“You are sweet. Shitty was right.” He shook his head. “He was a dick. I never should have moved in with him, but when you’re a guy like me in small town Georgia, you’d do anything to get out of there. I just… I never should have.”

Jack fought back the sudden need to wrap his arms around the other man. He had no idea where the feeling came from, but he needed Bitty to smile again. “What happened?”

“I went from hiding one part of myself to getting hurt because of a different one. So, I took his car and left.” He laughed a little. “I didn’t even have a destination in mind, but I guess Rhode Island isn’t so bad.”

Losing his battle against the urge to be near Bitty a little, Jack moved to stand beside Bitty at the sinks, but not close enough that they were touching.

“I’m innocent.”

Bitty raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t have to lie to me, honey. There’s no judgement in this bathroom.” 

“No, I am. I… My poison was anxiety medication. And alcohol. Specifically mixed together. I got caught with cocaine, but I’ve _never_ touched the stuff. And if I have, I was too far gone to remember it.” Jack took a deep breath to steady himself. He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest, but for some reason he felt like he could trust Bitty to let him talk.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“No, it’s fine. I’m used to people assuming. People assuming is why I’m here. The last time,” Jack bit his cheek to keep the story of his overdose from pouring out, “I was too far gone, so I got rehab and community service. This time, I was lucid and awake when they caught me, so they threw me in prison. Without questioning it.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Jack could hear Bitty’s heart breaking when he spoke.

“Don’t. I don’t need your pity.”

Bitty huffed. “Why can’t you just accept that you deserve to have people worry about you? I see you out in the field every day—running like you’re lost—but then when I try to reach out to you, you shut it down. Everyone needs someone to lean on. I did when I first got here, but then I realized that everyone else needed that too.”

“Maybe you’re wrong.” 

“Jack, honey, no offense, but I’m not.”

“Who’s supporting you, then? From what I can tell, everyone here seems to be leaning on you, but not the other way around.”

Bitty blinked at him, and Jack smirked at seeing him caught off guard.

“What is your last name?” 

“What?” 

“Your last name, Jack. I only know you as _Jack_ , and I _cannot_ properly chastise you without knowing your last name!”

Jack couldn’t help the laugh from bubbling up. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“…Should I?” Bitty blinked, caught off guard again.

“Oh my god.” Jack wheezed a little, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Zimmermann. My last name is Zimmermann.” 

“Well then, _Mr. Zimmermann_ , I’ll have you know that these boys around here do plenty to support me. My range of support tends to lie more on the physical side, that’s all.”

“I… Oh.”

Bitty blanched. “I mean… I don’t handle getting into fights all that well, so I can’t defend myself if that ever ended up happening! Not—I didn’t mean—”

“I wasn’t insinuating anything.”

Bitty flushed and quickly glanced away. “Me and my big mouth, _Lord_.”

“You’re a lot less annoying when you’re not trying to be intimidating.” Jack nudged him a little, earning an exasperated sigh from Bitty.

He nudged Jack right back and met his eyes defiantly. “I have a feeling you’re going to make me regret trying to befriend you, Jack Zimmermann.”

“I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ll let you befriend me, if you join me on a run every day.”

Bitty made a face. “Oh, that sounds horrible. And before you say anything, I’ll have you know I am a former figure skater and collegiate hockey player, and therefore no stranger to physical activity. I just have standards.”

“You played hockey in college, and you still don’t know who I am?”

Bitty made a face at him. “Well, _someone’s_ a narcissist.”

“Is that a yes? To our deal?”

“Oh, well, alright. A little running never hurt anybody.”

Jack laughed again, but he was cut off when O’Meara, Wicks, and Shitty stumbled in to warn them of approaching guards. They quickly acted like they were there only to wash their hands or the like, but Bitty kept catching Jack’s eye, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Risking letting the guards know there was something going on, Jack winked at him before he slipped back into the hallway. He instantly decided he liked being able to make Bitty’s ears turn bright red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI THIS CHAPTER WAS FUN TO WRITE


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up: mild violence and Jack having a mini panic attack in this chapter - nothing too bad though

Jack and Bitty quickly fell into their new morning routine, even if Bitty spent the first fifteen minutes of their morning run complaining bitterly. The guard who came to collect them—Murray, as Jack learned from his badge—usually found Jack sitting up in his bunk quietly talking at a half-awake Shitty, while Bitty was passed out across from Chow. Murray would yank him up and nod at Jack to get him to follow, and they’d head outside. They’d make the first lap or two in silence before Bitty managed to completely wake up and start talking at Jack.

“I bet I could get you placed on kitchen duty.”

Jack glanced over at Bitty and quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Kitchen duty. With me and Chris and Will and Ollie and Pacer.” Bitty shrugged. “If you want. If you haven’t already gotten your assignment.”

“My…assignment?”

Bitty sighed. “You really have no idea how things work around here, do you?”

Jack grunted. “It’s not like the guards are handing out informational pamphlets about what to expect.”

“Well, to help keep us busy and to keep this place functional, the guards give us all different duties—like janitorial staff, or maintenance, or laundry, or—” he gestured, “—kitchen duty.”

“So, chores. Basically.”

Bitty nodded. “Basically. You don’t get to pick, but I can try and request you on the kitchen staff since I’m technically in charge over there.”

Laughing a little, Jack shook his head. “I’m not sure you want me there. I almost set my microwave on fire trying to make oatmeal once.”

“Hm.” Bitty tried to smother a laugh, but a small giggle slipped through. Jack’s heart jumped a little. “I’m sure I could teach you a thing or two to make you useful. Besides, I bet a big strong hockey player like you would be very handy for hauling supplies around.”

“Is that all you think I’m good for? Being a pack mule?”

Even though Bitty looked away, Jack could still see the grin slipping across Bitty’s face. “Well…” 

“I see how it is, Bittle.” 

“Oh, hush, you.”

“Pack mules should be silent, eh?”

Bitty elbowed Jack’s bicep, earning a sharp rebuke from Murray. “You wouldn’t just be _a_ pack mule, you’d be _my_ pack mule.”

“You realize that doesn’t make you sound any less like a mob boss.” He had let that thought slip out during one of their first morning runs, and it quickly became a running joke between them. Not that there wasn’t still a part of Jack that believed that Bitty was some sort of underground leader.

“I’m nothing but a very determined baker, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Despite his lack of culinary talent, Jack realized he wouldn’t mind spending that much more time in the kitchen. He had been spending the majority of his time not spent running laps either laying on his bunk or sitting at a table in the library, idly flipping pages while Shitty reshelved books. It was enjoyable but boring, and somehow his time with Bitty _never_ felt boring. He was bright and annoyingly cheerful and still surprised Jack with how effectively he ordered his little group around, but he made Jack feel almost calm in a way he had missed since he had gotten arrested in the first place.

“I guess that means I could stand to learn something from you. That is, if you’ll still have me.”

“Just don’t expect to be let anywhere near the microwave.” He paused. “Or the oatmeal. Just to be safe. I’ll mention something at breakfast.”

Jack frowned a little. “I’m not keeping you from that, am I?”

“What? No, of course not. Dex is in charge for now, and breakfast is simple enough—and even if it wasn’t, I trust that boy with my kitchen. Don’t let his general grumpiness fool you. I stole him away from the maintenance crew because of the potential I saw in him.” Bitty cleared his throat. “Anyway, they don’t need me hovering over them all the time. I’ll be there to help serve at least.”

“Are you sure? Becau—”

“Alright, you two are done! Back inside!” Murray jabbed a thumb towards the door.

Bitty hesitated for half a moment, almost like he wasn’t quite ready to leave the sanctity of their run, but he trudged towards the guard instead. Jack understood the feeling. Running with Bitty every morning was more than just easy conversation and physical activity. It gave him a chance to be outside the prison walls, even if they were still surrounded by large chain-link fences topped with barbed wire. It helped him forget the situation he was in. Jack imagined it was the same for Bitty. Not about being with Jack, but about a small sense of freedom. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him a little.

Jack shook his head and followed Bitty inside before the guard tried to bodily move him there.

Once they showered, they were hustled into the cafeteria for breakfast, where Bitty quickly disappeared into the kitchen. Jack managed to grab some food and find Shitty and the others from Block S. The conversation was nice, but Jack knew it wouldn’t hold his attention until Bitty finished with his duties and joined them. He could only talk gossip and about how good the eggs were for so long.

“Bro, there is definitely more salt in these today.” Oluransi stabbed at his plate and squinted.

Birkholtz rolled his eyes. “I think you’re just projecting because Poindexter made ‘em.”

“They’re salty! Open your taste buds, bro.”

“Bro.”

Jack smothered his grin with the back of his hand. “They are a little salty.”

“See!”

A voice at the table behind them spoke up. “Surprised you can even tell that. Doesn’t cocaine, like, kill your taste buds?”

Jack froze, and he could feel the guys sitting next to him bristle. He hadn’t told anyone about his arrest changes outside of Shitty and Bitty, which meant either someone overheard them or… He couldn’t handle the other option. 

“Hey, Asshat, keep your nose in your own eggs.” Shitty turned around and glared.

The guy at the other table leaned back until he was close enough that Jack could feel his breath on his neck. “What’s the matter? It’s fuckin’ true, and we all know it. After all, the walls do talk.”

 “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jack said as he looked back at him.

The guy caught the soft waiver in Jack’s voice and laughed. “What’s the matter? You scared, Zimmermann—and yeah, I know who you are. Bet your daddy’s real proud of you, huh?”

“What’s going on here?” Bitty’s voice sounded like ice, but Jack barely registered that through his fight to keep his anxiety under control.

“Just getting to know the new stray you adopted, Bittle. He’s awfully pretty, huh? I see why you picked him up.”

Bitty grinned, sickeningly sweet. “You want to run that by me again, sugar? But before you do, I’d like to remind you that I decide what goes into your food.”

The guy shoved his hand on Jack’s shoulder, using him as leverage to help him stand up and face Bitty. Too late he realized the severity of the situation. That Bitty had come out of the kitchen alone and not with O’Meara and Wicks like usual. That the rest of Block S was either absent or still seated on the benches attached to their table. That getting up was going to take them longer than they had.

“Was that a threat, Bittle?”

“That depends on if I heard you correctly.”

One punch, and Bitty went down. The rest of the Block S guys leaped up from the table seconds too late, and guards descended on them with whistles blowing, and Jack felt like the whole universe was sliding off kilter. He saw the blood on Bitty’s face for just a moment as he and the other guy were hauled away before they were both gone.

And Jack was still sitting.

Still sitting and trying to remember how to breathe.


	6. Chapter 6

Eric woke up on a cot at the nurse’s station with two guards glaring over him, and most of his face throbbed painfully. The last thing he remembered was Stevens’ fist coming at him before blacking out. The blackouts were why he avoided conflict in the first place. Curse his big heart and it’s newfound soft spot for one Jack Zimmermann. The nurse was discussing something quietly with a third guard by the door, and Eric frowned. Three guards for the person who didn’t even throw the punch seemed overkill.

“Alright, he’s fine.” The guard who had been speaking with the nurse nodded at the other two guards. “Get him out of here.”

Eric squeaked as the guards hauled him up. He expected them to let him go as they escorted him back to his bunk, but they tightened their grip on his arms as they turned down the opposite hall he expected.

“What...?”

“The warden wants to emphasize that there is absolutely no fighting tolerated.” The guard smirked, and Eric’s felt his blood turn icy. “And we can’t show any favoritism between prisoners.”

They dragged him through the doors that separated the solitary confinement cells from the rest of the prison and immediately started panicking.

“Wait, wait, wait. I didn’t even hit him back! _He_ punched _me_! Once. Once! Why am I being punished for something _he_ did?”

The guards stayed silent.

“Please don’t do this. I’ve never given y’all any trouble, and I don’t ever plan to neither!” Eric yelped as they shoved him inside one of the empty cells.

The guards glanced at each other and rolled their eyes. “You can cut the crap, Bittle. We all know about how you run your little gang behind the scenes. We may not be trapped in here like you fuckers are, but we do hear things. If anything, we’re doing those guys a favor for giving them some space from you.”

Eric stared at them. “I’m not...”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

They went to shut the cell, and Eric felt his heart leap into his throat. “How long am I in here?”

The door slammed in his face.

“ _How long am I in here for?!_ ”

Eric’s fists slammed against the cold iron door, willing himself not to cry as he called out after the guards. He knew from the stories he’d heard from other guys who had been in solitary that they probably couldn’t hear him anymore, but he couldn’t make himself stop. He just wanted out. He pounded his fists on the door, hoping it would magically reopen.

His face felt damp, and he realized he was crying. “...please...”

He couldn’t keep track of the minutes in there, no matter how hard he tried. Eventually his knees started throbbing from kneeling in front of the door for so long, but the cool metal on his forehead helped clear his head. Eric sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. He’d been locked in tight spaces before, and he could make it through this. They had to let him out eventually.

_...Right?_

Eric shook his head. He had to stay positive. His entire philosophy on how he was going to survive prison was exactly the same as his philosophy on how he survived living in his hometown and getting through his toxic relationship. He had to stay positive until he got the hell out. Eric laid on his back and took a few more deep breaths. The thing was, he was tired of forcing himself to be positive. To keep forcing himself to keep smiling and laughing and humming his way through things because he knew he would start crying if he stopped. He would jump at the chance to be honestly happy without forcing it, and his morning runs with Jack had been the closest he had gotten to that in such a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so free.

Ironic that it happened while he was in prison.

His thoughts went back to Jack, and he frowned. Eric hoped one of the guards would tell him where he was. He hoped Jack cared enough to even ask. They had known each other for such a short time, but Eric knew he was already in too deep with that boy. Jack had been so frustrating at the start, but then Eric finally got him to talk. It wasn’t fair that someone as kind and strong-willed and handsome as Jack ended up in the situation he was in. He was too perfect for that.

Eric’s face turned bright red, and he was suddenly glad no one was around. No one needed to know about the tiny crush he may or may not have on Jack.

He ended up laying on the ground until the silence got deafening. Pushing himself to his feet, he tried to drown it out by stomping around his cell, but he felt too drained to keep that up for very long. Eric Bittle was not built for isolation. He knew himself, and he knew that he needed to have people around in order to function properly. Left to his own devices for too long, and Eric was likely to spiral. He needed to distract himself before his thoughts buried him, but he didn’t have anything else. Eric ran his hands through his hair and tried to calm down again before he started hyperventilating.

If he died there—in prison, in solitary—would his parents ever know? He was a legal adult and didn’t have them listed as contacts in his file, and he hadn’t spoken to them once in the three years he’d been there. They probably already considered him dead.

“Might be for the best.” His voice came out hoarse, and he wondered how long he’d been confined already.

He started pacing the cell again, alternating between wringing his hands and running them through his hair. Every sound was amplified, and it felt like the cell was getting smaller with every breath. The bottom slot on the door lifted up for a brief moment and a dinner tray slid through the gap. Eric blinked at it. He’d been in solitary for several hours, then.

The solitary meals were always easy to put together. Each dish went in the different sections of the trays, and then got sealed off with the cover. Eric never expected to be on the receiving end of one. He hoped they weren’t having too much trouble without him in the kitchen.

Taking a deep breath and sitting on the very sad-looking cot in the corner, he tried to eat without crying or having his stomach reject it all. He mostly succeeded, but the tear tracks on his cheeks burned on his skin.


	7. Chapter 7

When Bitty didn’t reappear in time for lunch, Jack started getting worried. The punch he took didn’t seem like it should have knocked him down for that long, but then again, it shouldn’t have knocked him out at all. Jack had seen punches like that off and on for years on the ice. Bitty was small, sure, but he seemed sturdy enough. Small, but strong.

He opted to sit more or less by himself instead of with Bitty’s group like he had been doing. It didn’t seem right somehow, sitting there while Bitty was missing. Bitty was the whole reason Jack was even talking to half of those guys.

Well, him and Shitty.

“What’s up, Jackabelle?” Shitty slid onto the bench next to Jack and comically waggled his eyebrows. “This isn’t our usual table. Trying something new?”

Jack shrugged. “Has anyone seen Bittle?”

Shitty’s eyes darkened, and he shook his head.

“I didn’t think any of the guards let us skip meals.”

Glancing back over at the rest of S Block, Shitty shrugged. “Sometimes they do. Although usually it’s more of a ‘cutting you off from food as punishment’ kind of thing.”

“Is that even legal?”

“Nope.” Shitty popped the ‘p’ and turned his eyes back to Jack. “A lot of what the guards do around here isn’t necessarily legal. But, y’know, we’re criminals, so who fucking cares. Right?”

Jack pushed his food around on his plate with his fork, unable to come up with a good response to that.

“Anyway, we already tried asking the guards where he is, but they won’t tell us anything. Visiting day is tomorrow though, so if we don’t hear anything from him by then, I’m going to ask Lards to ask. She’s on his emergency contact list, so they legally have to tell her shit. Plus, she has the added benefit of not being incarcerated.”

“I don’t think I have visiting privileges yet.” Jack frowned.

Shitty rolled his eyes a little. “Figures. The shitholes who run this place probably ‘forgot’ to talk to you about it. Next month then, hopefully.”

Jack blinked. “Next... _month?_ ”

“Yup. We’re only permitted visitors once a month for thirty minutes. No touching. And that’s if you don’t accidentally piss off the guards any.” Shitty took a bite of his lunch. “Bullshit, right?”

“I...” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, “I need to get out of here.”

“Your parents are working on that, right?”

“Theoretically. They told me they were going to schedule an... an appeal? For my sentence. Or something.”

Shitty nodded. “They probably have to go through a secondary investigation first before a judge will even talk to them about appealing your sentence. Sucks ass that you can’t get any update on how that’s going.”

“I get why no one stepped forward to clear my name. I really do. But I was one of their captains, Shits. You’d think that’d mean something.” Jack dropped his fork and ran a hand through his hair.

Shitty gave him a sympathetic nudge. “They’ll clear your name, brah. You just gotta stay positive.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Not to mention, it’ll be really obvious that the drugs weren’t yours when you don’t start to go through withdrawal.”

Jack sat up a little straighter. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“Trust me, withdrawl’s a bitch-times-two in here.” Shitty paused when he saw Jack’s questioning look. “I was busted partially for drugs, brah. Given, weed withdrawal is a cakewalk compared to most shit, but it was still a fucking pain.”

“Oh.”

“Yup.”

Jack turned back to his plate, frowning softly. “I hope Bittle’s okay.”

“It’s not fucking right. Whatever’s happening to him right now, it isn’t anything he deserves.” Shitty shot a cold glare to the nearby guards out of the corner of his eye. “They think he’s running some shady shit in here, so I guarantee they’re trying to weasel info out of him. We all look out for each other. End of story. Bitty’s supportive talents just lean more on the emotional side rather than the physical.”

Looking down at his hands, Jack gripped them to try and keep them from shaking “I called him a gang leader in the earshot of the guard this morning.”

“What?”

“It was a joke. I called him that as a joke because I thought that’s what he was when I first met him, but what if—”

Shitty held his hand up, shushing him. “Hey, don’t you dare start thinking this is your fault. We still don’t even know what’s happening with him—or that other motherfucker, who also isn’t here—so there may not even be anything to worry about. Anyway, the guards have been thinking that about Bitty for years, so one comment from you isn’t going to cause any problems.”

“I barely even know him... Why am I so worried?” Jack gripped onto his thighs, willing his anxiety down to manageable levels again.

Shitty grinned. “Sounds like Bitty’s got to you, Jackie-boy. C’mon, let’s go back and sit with the others. I bet I can get Justin and Adam to tell you the story of how they got arrested again.”

“What did they do again? Arson, right?”

Snorting, Shitty shook his head and got up from his seat. “Yeah, they set an entire fleet of hot dog carts on fire because the owner told Adam that they were kosher when they absolutely were not. They both feel absolutely no shame about getting arrested for it.”

“How many hot dog carts make up a fleet?” Jack raised an eyebrow but followed Shitty’s lead over to the other tables.

“Y’know, I don’t have a fucking clue. They change the number every time they tell this story, but it’s at least twenty.”

Jack grinned, although he was still very worried about Bitty. His concern only grew when he failed to reappear in time for dinner, and even more so when Chowder confirmed he didn’t show by lights out. Despite his best efforts, Jack kept fitfully turning over various horrible scenarios in his head instead of sleeping. By the time the guard came to collect him for his morning run, Jack felt like he had barely slept at all.

It didn’t make sense.

He kept coming back to that thought. It didn’t make sense why Bitty was being detained for so long. It didn’t make sense why Jack cared as much as he did. It didn’t make sense why he was even in prison to begin with. It didn’t make sense how soft Bitty’s hands were despite their environment, and it didn’t make sense why his laugh made Jack’s stomach do a flip, and it didn’t make sense why Jack kept hoping he’d turn around and see his smile— _oh._

_Oh._

Jack stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of his fourth lap as things started clicking into place in his head.

_Well. Fuck._


	8. Chapter 8

Although it wasn’t actually the case, running felt like the only thing Jack had control over any more. Given he couldn’t decide where or when he could run, but he could decide which direction to run the lap in, how fast he went, the size of his steps. He usually stuck with a set pace before getting arrested. That morning however, he found himself switching things up just because he could.

Just because it gave him something to think about other than Bitty. 

No one had heard any official word on Bitty, and Jack was trying to beat back his anxiety on his own as best he could without his medication. Shitty seemed convinced that they had thrown him in solitary as some sort of show of strength against him. The thought of Bitty being forced to be alone in a tiny, mostly empty room made Jack furious. He didn’t deserve that. They didn’t know for sure though, so the only other option made Jack feel sick to his stomach.

He had seen tapes of guys who when down on the ice and didn’t get back up when they should have. They hit the ground just right, their helmets flown off, marking the end of their career. Marking the end of everything for them. That was why concussions and other head injuries were taken so seriously in the NHL. One bad hit, and you would never get up again.

Jack desperately hoped Bitty had gotten back up again.

“Inside, Zimmermann!” 

The guard gestured at him to come back, and begrudgingly he trudged through the patchy grass to the door.

Shitty found him at breakfast, and for once he didn’t great Jack with his usual smile. Instead he dropped his tray on the table and huffed. 

“I’m gonna get Lards to talk to the guards.”

“I keep thinking that maybe that punch killed him.”

“Bro.” 

“Yeah, I know. Just worried.” 

Sighing heavily, Shitty clapped him on the back. “I pegged that big heart of yours the second I saw you, Jackabelle. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.” Jack pushed his very sad-looking eggs around with his fork. He paused when an awful thought crossed through his head. “What if… What if I get out before he comes back, Shits?” 

Shitty gauged the distressed look on Jack’s face. “You getting out is a good thing. Bits would be happy for you if that’s what he came back to.” 

Jack shrugged and took a bite of eggs. “Yeah.” 

He felt a hard punch hit his arm and looked up to see a very frustrated look on Shitty’s face.

“Getting out of this place and having your name cleared is huge, man. That has to be your number one, okay? I get that you’re a nice guy and all, but what happens to Bitty can’t take precedence over your own needs. That’s not what our group is about.” Shitty huffed a little. “And Bitty would tell you as much himself if he were here.” 

Jack knew he would, but that didn’t do anything to slow the churning in his stomach at the thought he may never see Bittle again. Although, he knew how he was feeling had nothing to do with the unspoken code of protection and assistance Block S had adopted since Bitty arrived. He nodded slowly to show Shitty that he understood what he told him, but Jack couldn’t stop thinking about when he’d get to see Bitty again. 

It had been nearly three months since this entire mess started… Three months was such a short time to fall for— 

“Poindexter definitely over-salted the fucking eggs again.” Adam dropped to his seat across from Jack, knocking him away from his thoughts.

Will rolled his eyes and sat next to Shitty. “Birkholtz, I think you need to accept that you have no idea what you’re talking about. Besides, if I didn’t put that much salt on them, you’d be able to taste exactly how rubbery the processed shit they make us use is.” 

“I miss Bitty’s eggs.” 

Taking his seat beside Poindexter, Chow sighed softly. “I miss Bitty.” 

Shitty nodded. “Yeah, we all do… I’m gonna get Lards to find out what happened to him today.” 

The reminder that visitation was that day helped perk up the conversation some, and Jack listened intently to them all talk about the people they would get to see in a few hours. Chris started talking about his girlfriend, and Will mentioned his uncles. Both Justin and Adam were getting to see Justin’s little sister, who apparently was still trying to sue the guy who owned all the hot dog carts they destroyed. 

Jack smiled softly, but wished he could see his parents. They had talked on the phone a few times since he had been in there, and he already told them he didn’t want them coming to see him. As nice it would be, he knew the media would harass them about it if they tried. So, they talk on the phone.  He tried to think about who he would want to come see him when given the opportunity, but all of his friends were on the Falconers, and he didn’t really know who he could trust. Shitty had offered Lardo as an option, so he may take him up on that. If the guards ever talk to him about it. 

He mentioned it to him while Shitty waited in Block S for his turn. 

“I’ll ask Lards to bring up your name too. It’s very likely that they forgot to get you set up, and a little pressure from the outside can do a lot in here.” 

“Thanks… I don’t know what I’d do without you, Shits.” 

He grinned and nudged Jack’s knee with his foot. “Probably waste away like the damsel in distress you are, you beautiful specimen you.” 

“Hey!” Jack laughed a little and tossed his pillow at Shitty. “I’m not that bad, eh?” 

“Oh, you’re the worst.” Shitty grinned and tossed the pillow back at him. “Don’t forget about us when you’re a free man again, okay?” 

“Never.” 

Hall appeared to collect Shitty for his turn for visitation, and Jack waved a little as he left. Alone again, Jack felt himself sinking back into the same concerned thoughts. The what-ifs that made his sleep restless and his fingers drum constantly against his thigh. For once, the center of that swirl wasn’t his father or hockey or being afraid of not being able to keep himself together and functional. A big question mark surrounded Bitty, and all his thoughts kept coming back to wanting to see him again.

And precisely how devasted he would be if that didn’t happen. 

Even if he was released and the charges dropped, his reputation was forever tarnished. He would still play hockey and play well, but there would be a disconnect between himself and the rest of the Falconers for a while due to this shattered trust, and that’s assuming they don’t trade him away after this. His parents would have to deal with the aftershocks of this happening—and are actively dealing with them—but they knew he was innocent. Jack could manage. The worst thing had happened, and other worse things would continue to happen to him…but he’d get through it and manage it like he did with panic attacks. 

He did know with dead certainty that he would never be able to recover from losing Bitty. In less than three months, he managed to wriggle his way so deeply behind all of Jack’s defenses that his existence became a core part of Jack’s.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friendly reminder that i am making up all the rules of the prison system in this au

Larissa stood in the waiting area, nails tapping lightly against her crossed arms. They dressed up this one area of the prison. Plants and soft chairs, with warm lighting and paint colors that made it too obvious that they were trying to impress the visitors. She knew from the things Shitty told her that the rest of the prison was far from homey.

The visitation went alphabetical by last name, as she learned from previous months. They moved twelve at a time down the list, marking off anyone who lost their rights to see people. The fact that she was waiting that long without being called in for Eric meant that he was still missing. Apparently they were all extremely concerned, based on the phone conversation she had with Shitty yesterday.

Sighing, she moved to go ask the receptionist about it, but she got cut off by a large man shouting in a very thick Russian accent.

“Why did no one call? I must see Zimboni. I have to make sure he is fine and not angry at us!”

“Sir,” the receptionist sighed. “If you did not get a call, that means you either are not on an inmate’s contact list, he has not received visitation rights yet, or those visitation rights have been revoked. If you continue to make a scene, I will have you removed from the premises.”

“Can you at least tell which is it?”

“Inmate name.”

“Zimmermann. Two ‘n’s. First name Jack.”

Lardo perked up a little. Zimmermann was the last name of the new guy Shitty told her about.

“Alright. According to our records, Jack Zimmermann has not been granted visitation rights at this time. Maybe next month.”

The large man sighed dejectedly and stepped away from the counter. He turned to leave, but thinking fast Lardo grabbed his arm.

“Hey, you’re looking for Jack Zimmermann?”

The man frowned and pulled away. “Apologies. I do not have time for fans right now.”

“No, no.” Lardo shook her head. “I think my fiancée has befriended him. If you want to hang around a bit, I can find out how he’s doing. Maybe get a message to him?”

The man blinked at her before a huge grin broke across his face. “Yes. What is your name?”

“Larissa Duan.”

“Larissa Duan, you are savior. I am Alexei Mashkov. You may call me Tater.” He hugged her, and she laughed a little at that.

“Tater?"

“Yes. Last name sounds like ‘mashed potatoes’ according to team.”

“Awesome.”

She made her way over to the receptionist, who seemed less than pleased at her appearance.

“I wanted to check on the status of one of the inmates I should have been seeing today.”

The receptionist eyed Tater from over Lardo’s shoulder and narrowed her eyes slightly. “You have to be manually added onto a list by the inmate, and the warden has to determine if they are fit to receive visitors in order for you to see them today.”

“I _know_ that.” Lardo bit back an insult before continuing. “If you would look me up, you would see I am on the approved list for two people being held here, one of whom I am inquiring about. Usually, I would have talked to him by now.”

“Name.”

“Eric Bittle.”

The receptionist typed his name into her computer, and her eyebrows rose a little at what popped up. Her reaction did little to ease Lardo’s worries about what was going on.

Clearing her throat, the receptionist quickly neutralized her expression. “His visitation rights have been revoked temporarily.”

“Can you tell me why?” Lardo tapped her fingers on the desk.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t—"

“ _Can’t_ or _won’t_? Because if his status in this prison has changed and you are withholding that information from me, that is a violation of both my and his legal rights. If you check my name, Larissa Duan, on his file, you’ll see that I am also listed as his emergency contact, which means you have to tell me if something has happened to him.” Lardo squared her shoulders and raised her voice just loud enough to draw the attention of the rest of the people in the waiting area.

She quietly thanked Shitty for making sure she knew what rights they both had in this kind of situation, and she was glad she could use that knowledge to help figure out what was happening to Bitty.

The receptionist glanced back at the guard stationed by her, who gave her a quick nod.

“Of course, Ms. Duan. It seems Eric Bittle was detained for fighting, and has been placed in solitary for a week as punishment. Assuming that this doesn’t happen again, you will be free to visit him next month.”

“This is bullshit.” Lardo muttered under breath. Given she hadn’t known Eric very long, but she knew he wasn’t the kind of person who got into fights. She only hoped that the other guy was getting punished more severely than he was.

“Excuse me?”

“I said thank you.” Lardo walked away from the counter and sighed.

Tater looked at her questioningly. “Everything alright, Larissa Duan?”

“Yeah… Well, no. One of my friends who is also locked up here was thrown into solitary for something that would never in a million years be his fault.”

“I do not want that to happen to Zimboni.” Tater sighed. “Should not even be here. He is innocent.”

“Really?”

Tater nodded. He told her the whole story about what happened, and the botched trial that happened before there was any evidence besides hearsay, and the reopened investigation that was killing their ability to act like a team.

Soon enough, Lardo was called into the visitation area. She grabbed an empty seat and waited for Shitty to make an appearance. When the guards escorted him in, she scrambled up and wrapped her arms around him. They were granted thirty seconds of contact, and she held on tight to try and make every second count. By the way he was pulling her against him, he had the same thought.

Reluctantly pulling away, they sat down across from each other, and Shitty beamed at her.

“Hey, Lards.”

“Hey, Nerd.”

“Okay, I know I have shit to tell you, but first you have to tell me how your art show went. It is literally killing me that I had to miss it, so you have to tell me everything.”

Lardo grinned, and she told him. They alway did this every time she visited him. He would have something he wanted to tell her or some game plan he wanted to hash out with her in person, but he’d always, always give her time to tell him about the things that were important to her. It was one of the reasons why she figured it’d be cool to marry him eventually.

“God, you are so fucking talented, Lards. You deserve this.”

“Oh, shut up.” She smirked at him. “Tell me about prison.”

“Do you know anything about Bitty?”

She sighed. “Yeah. I figured something was up based on what you told me the other day and when he didn’t show up to talk today, so I looked into it.”

“And?”

“Solitary for a week.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep. When did you say they hauled him off? Two days ago?”

Shitty ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. God, this is unfair. A lot of things that go on here are fucked, but a _week_? That’s so unwarranted. This is exactly the same stunt they pulled with Connor four months ago.”

“It really fucking sucks. Take care of him for me when he gets out. And have him call me.”

He nodded, still visibly distraught over the news. “Yeah. I will. You’re the best.”

“I know.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “You see the worried giant back in the waiting area?”

“Yeah? What about him?”

Lardo turned back to him and waved a little at Tater, who quickly waved back. “He tried to come see Zimmermann today. The guy you and Bitty adopted?”

“Jack? Oh shit, that’s one of the guys from the Falconers, isn’t it?”

“Yup. Seems that way. Alexei Mashkov, although he insisted I call him Tater.”

Shitty frowned. “He’s one of the guys who’s responsible for why he’s even in here. I know I didn’t give you details, but—”

“I don't think he is responsible, though. I mean, he told me what happened while I was waiting for you, and I don’t think he was involved with whoever set Jack up. He’s completely on Jack’s side and certain he’s innocent.”

“Huh…” Shitty looked down as his hands. “And you trust what he’s saying?”

Lardo glanced back at Tater again, where he was worriedly pacing back and forth from behind the glass. “Yeah, I do. He doesn’t strike me as someone with malicious intent. Apparently he just wanted to find out if Jack is okay and whether or not he’s mad at him.”

“Well, you can tell him that Jack’s managing. And that he’s in good hands. Jack’ll be glad to know he has more people on his side out there than he thinks.”

“Poor guy.”

“Yeah. At least I did what I got charged for.”

Lardo scoffed. “Barely. It was _not_ your fault that your protest turned violent.”

“You’ll still love me even if I’ll never be a lawyer again?”

“Duh.” Lardo reached out to ruffle his hair, but she stopped herself, remembering where they were. “I don’t keep you around for your money, dumbass.”

“Awesome.”

They eventually had to say their goodbyes, and the guards escorted Shitty back behind the concrete walls. Lardo felt a pang of remorse when she remembered that she would be going home alone again, but it was a familiar feeling at this point. He would call her later when he was allowed. In the meantime, she had a large Russian man who needed her attention and comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAD I SWEAR


	10. Chapter 10

_This was a living hell._

Bitty stared blankly at the cinderblock wall and resisted the urge to try and scratch away the grout around each block with his fingers. He had been there for three days, although time didn’t hold too much meaning for him within the confines of the tiny cell. His clock was the creak of the flap at the bottom of the cell door opening, the sound the meal tray made as it slid across the concrete. The time in between was nothing but empty silence.

He rolled over on his cot, tired of looking at the wall even though he knew the rest of the cell wasn’t much different.

A sink, a toilet, a bed, a door that wouldn’t open but allowed him the tiniest bit of light so he at least wasn’t shrouded in darkness. He had given up on begging the guards for information when they stopped by. They weren’t listening, let alone willing to give him any information, so Bitty figured he shouldn’t bother wasting his energy on trying. He paced a lot that first day. Moving gave him something to do and kept him from crying, but his legs started to burn like they did after running with Jack.

“I miss Jack…”

His voice sounded foreign to him. It sounded wrong after laying in deafening silence for so long, but it was probably partially because his throat was so dry. He should get some water. Jack would tell him to drink some water.

Bitty hauled himself up, and the sudden movement made him a little dizzy. He braced himself on the edge of his bed for a moment and then pushed himself to his feet.

He remembered how Connor acted when he got back from his trip to solitary. This place changed him ever so slightly and warped his reactions. He got jumpier and stopped talking to the others as much, and when Bitty tried to reach out and talk to him about it weeks after it happened, Whisk snapped at him like he thought Bitty was trying to hurt him. Eventually he stopped talking to the rest of Block S altogether, aside from his bunkmate Tony. Bitty sucked in a quiet breath at the thought that he might start to do the same thing.

If they ever let him out of there.

That was the thing, though. Bitty _was_ technically involved in a fight, and he knew those were against the rules. He was standing up for Jack. That was really all the reason he needed to do what he did, even if he only took the hit rather than the other way around. Connor knew the rules too, and he broke them. Bitty understood why he did it, knowing how he felt about Jack, but this— _this_ —seemed cruel. 

Bitty downed three cups of water before throwing himself back on the little cot and sighed audibly. Solitary forced him to be alone with his thoughts with nothing to distract himself with, so he had plenty of time to think about all the things he had been trying to ignore. He should know better by now, letting his heart lead him down paths that would only get him hurt. It had happened over and over, and the most recent decision his heart made had gotten him locked up for five years. And yet, he still wanted. 

When he first arrived, Jack was hard and distant and said rude things, but Bitty could tell he needed someone to lean on. So he pried. He pushed and prodded and wormed his way right into that boy’s life, and found a ledge to stand on. Or, as the case may be, to run on. And as they ran, they talked. The more they talked the more Bitty wanted to know about him, and Jack started smiling. It was that smile that made Bitty realize that maybe Jack snuck his way behind Bitty’s defenses while he wasn’t paying attention. 

Except.

There was no way this wouldn’t end without Bitty getting hurt. Even if Jack could ever find him attractive, he was innocent. He was innocent, and he was going to get out. The charges against him would get dropped, his record cleaned, and his life returned to him. Bitty was guilty. He plead guilty to make things easier on himself, and these charges would follow him for the rest of his life. There was no way Jack would ever want to be with a felon.

If he was being honest with himself, he was terrified of getting released. He couldn’t face his parents, not after being outed to them in the middle of his trial. He couldn’t go back to his ex, especially since he took out a highly unnecessary restraining order against Eric as a part of his sentence. Which left him homeless. He didn’t even have any friends he could lean on once he was released, since he drove them all away because his former boyfriend didn’t like them. Not to mention he was jobless, and finding work would be near-impossible with his criminal record. His one saving hope would be if Lardo would take him in, but he could never bring himself to ask her that. It was too much to ask of someone he honestly barely knew.

_No, no, no. Stop thinking about it._

His face felt wet, and he pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes to try and will himself to calm down. Bitty felt exhausted, but the nightmares that plagued his sleep had gotten worse locked in this tiny space, so he didn’t want to try and rest.

Instead, he screamed into his pillow.

Bitty sat up, feeling only marginally better. His fingers itched against his thigh, and he reminded himself how much he missed having the freedom to bake anything and everything he wanted at a moment’s notice. He was allowed to make deserts in the prison kitchen on occasion, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing beat being able to crank out thirty or so jars of jam in his own kitchen while blasting music. _Music_. Lord, he missed baking with music playing in the background. The sound of a bustling kitchen had its own special melody about it, but he always baked at his happiest with Beyoncé blasting in the background.

With those memories floating around in his head, he absently wondered if the prison would be a happier place if he was allowed to bake for everyone the way he would love to, but he remembered that this wasn’t supposed to be a happy place. At the end of the day, they were being punished. Bitty sighed when he realized his ex-boyfriend probably sold most of his baking supplies from their apartment, along with the majority of his things he left there. He probably sold everything Bitty packed in the car to take with him—including both his hockey skates and his figure skates.

He sat up suddenly, a cold feeling settling over his heart when he realized what else in his things were probably sold.

It had been three years since Bitty had slept with him in arms reach so he’d almost forgotten, but that was the one thing that had the most importance to him. Cookware could be replaced. His skates, as expensive as they were, could also be replaced.

There would never be a replacement for Senior Bun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made /myself/ very upset with this chapter oh my god


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "<Indicates dialogue in French.>"

Jack leaned against the concrete wall and closed his eyes. Once again, he found himself waiting aimlessly. There were a few people ahead of him in line for the phones, and he really needed to talk to his mom—especially after the past week. It had been about a week since they hauled an unconscious Bitty out of the cafeteria, and Jack hadn’t breathed easily since. He couldn’t imagine spending a day in solitary, let alone an entire week. As frustrating as Bitty was when they first met, he was right about one thing he said to Jack.

_“You won’t make it here alone.”_

He slid forward along the wall as the next person in line grabbed a receiver. Ideally, his parents would have news about how his case is progressing to get him out of there, but the thought of getting out of prison lead him right back to the thought of leaving Bitty. He studied his hands with a soft frown. Ideally, he would be able to get Bitty out too.

He slid forward in line again, and he dialed the number he had burned into his memory. The phone rang twice before a robotic voice signaled that the call had been accepted.

“Jack?”

He let out a quiet sigh of relief when he heard his mother’s voice, greeting her in Quebecois to avoid any prying ears from nearby prisoners and guards.

“<Oh, baby, I miss you. How are you doing?>”

“<I’m alright. Managing.>”

“<Hold on, let me put you on speaker so your father can hear you.>” He heard a distant _‘Bobby, dear, it’s Jack’_ before he heard a soft click indicating that the phone switched over to speaker.

“<Jack? Can you hear us okay?>”

“Yes, Papa.”

“<Good. We just got off the phone with your lawyer, actually. He says they think they’ve gathered enough evidence to contest your sentencing in court, and they’ve scheduled an initial hearing for your appeal for next Tuesday.>”

“<Really?>”

“<Yes! Finally, some good news, isn’t that right?>” He could hear the smile in his mom’s voice, and he felt guilty for not being as excited as he should have been.  

“<Yeah, good news.>”

“<Baby, what’s wrong? This means we’re one step closer to getting you out of there.>”

Jack paused. He didn’t keep secrets from his parents, not since the overdose, but telling them he may have feelings for a convicted felon seemed like pushing things. He instead sighed and shook his head softly.

“<It’s…it’s hard to believe. I don’t think it’ll hit me until I have something a little more concrete.>”

“<And it will be.>” Bob huffed a little. “<And there’s not another reason why you’re reluctant to leave?>”

“<…I…No. Why?>”

“<No reason. By the way, how’s your friend doing?>”

Alicia piped up before Jack could answer. “<Not Shitty, we talked to him yesterday, and he told us all about his and Larissa’s eventual wedding plans. Your dad means Eric. Shitty told us we should talk to you about what’s going on with him.>”

So Jack told them. He told them what happened and about how unfair everything is, and he definitely took a detour into how much he missed running with him every morning. By the time the guard gave him the cue to cut it off, Jack realized he monopolized the whole conversation talking about Bittle. With an apology and an ‘I love you’, he said goodbye to his parents.

He walked quietly towards Block S, trying to ignore how desperately he wanted to see Eric.

A group of guards were heading towards the entrance to the block from the opposite direction, and Jack instinctively steeled himself even though he wasn’t doing anything that would warrant being reprimanded. For a moment he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He slowed to a stop, and Bitty looked up at him as he was escorted into the block.

Jack waited until the guards left the block before nearly tripping over himself as he hurried in after Bitty. The block was deserted, with most of the others off in other areas of the prison, so Bitty was alone in his bunk when Jack skidded to a stop.

“Bittle?”

He gave Jack a weak smile from where he sat on his bed. “Hi Jack.”

Bitty looked exhausted, and he sounded like he hadn’t spoken in years. Jack felt white-hot fury run through him, knowing that there was no way Bitty deserved the treatment he got. He clenched his fists and helplessly looked at the other man, unsure as to what to do now that Eric was in front of him again.

“Don’t look at me like that. Please.” Bitty looked down at his feet and gripped a little tighter at the edge of his bed.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t think they’ll let me run with you for a little while.”

“I don’t care.” The words tumbled out of Jack’s mouth before he could think better of it, and he winced at the hurt look on Bitty’s face. “No, I mean. I do care because I love running with you, but I’m more glad because you’re out of there, not just that I get my running partner back.”

A ghost of a smile hovered on Bitty’s lips, and Jack tried really hard not to stare at them. “And here I thought you didn’t like me.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like you. I’m the one who’s a hard person to like, so I’ve learned to not expect anything.”

“Jack Zimmermann, you have no idea how easy it is to like you.”

Jack grinned and crossed his arms. “I think you like everyone, Bittle.”

“Maybe. Everyone who isn’t an asshole.”

“I thought you just said you _did_ like me. Sounds to me like you’re contradicting yourself.”

Bitty grinned, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oh, hush.”

“That’s not a denial.”

“Chirp, chirp, Mr. Zimmermann. You oughta be nicer to me.”

Jack moved forward and sat down on Chow’s bed across from Bitty. “I think I’m plenty nice to you.”

“Sure you are.”

The sound of voices just outside the block caught their attention, and Bitty’s smile fell. Adam, Justin, Will, and Derek wandered into the block and shouted loudly when they saw Bitty sitting on his bed. They crowded into the little space to welcome him back, and Jack felt a soft pang when he realized that they probably wouldn’t get another moment alone for a while.

He eventually told the others to back off a little to let Bitty rest when he saw how overwhelmed he looked through all the hubbub, and Bitty gave him a grateful glance.

Jack went back to his own bed carrying that look in his mind, relishing that at least his worst fear wouldn’t be realized. He got to see Bitty again before he got released. He tried not to think too hard about how  _that_ was his worst fear.


	12. Chapter 12

Jack was right—he didn’t get a chance to be alone with Bittle for several days. The guards had been twice as vigilant since Eric’s release from solitary. It seemed like every time Jack thought he had a chance to ask Bitty how he was actually doing, Hall or Murray or another guard appeared around a corner or through a doorway. And when guards weren’t around, the other members of Block S were. As often as Bitty had reminded him that their group was built on mutual support, it seemed like whatever thoughts had been swirling inside his head were off-limits to the others.

He eyed the security cameras as he walked towards the bathroom while between shifts on laundry duty, quietly thanking his public upbringing for making the constant watchfulness at the prison a little less unnerving. Out of all the things that set his anxiety on edge, being watched no longer fell near the top of the list.

With that thought in his head, he wasn’t paying much attention to whether or not he was alone. He paused in the doorway when he noticed Bitty, standing hunched over a running sink.

“Bittle?”

Bitty jerked up, and his eyes were wide and a little damp. “Jack! I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t hear you come in!” He laughed nervously and moved to wipe his face with his sleeve.

“Are you okay?” Jack stepped towards him, but Bitty stepped backwards.

He laughed again and looked at his hands where they twisted the hem of his uniform shirt. “Oh, me? Yeah! I’m doing great. Taking a quick break before I have to go start dinner prep. The boys can get so rowdy in the rec room, you know.”

Hesitating, Jack reached out to pull the bathroom door shut from where it was caught ajar. Bitty sucked in a quiet breath.

“Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what?” Jack crossed his arms. “Is there a reason you don’t want to be alone with me? I’ve been trying to talk to you since you got back, but haven’t had the opportunity… I just thought we had bad timing but—” 

“I’m not going back, Jack.”

Jack blinked at him. “You aren’t. You’re here, and we’re going to make sure nothing changes that.”

“You closing that door _could_ change that!” Bitty shouted at him, immediately curling into himself afterward. “It happened with Connor, and I guess I thought I was immune to getting sent _there_ or something, but now that I’m painfully aware that I’m not I—”

Jack held out his hand and cut him off. “You guys keep mentioning this thing that happened with Connor Whisk, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. Clearly, it’s something that has you terrified though, and Bittle, I want to _help_.”

“It’s…it’s really not my place to tell you.”

“I won’t tell anyone I know. But at this point, it seems like something I should.”

Bitty bit his lip, eyes red, and Jack’s heart beat a little faster. “He used to be more involved with Block S. He would actually talk to us, but then something happened.”

Jack nodded once, waiting for him to continue.

“He had always been closer with some guys over in Block L, but no one thought anything of it. Until some guards caught him alone together in one of the bathrooms with one of the guys from over there. And it was bad. Really, _really_ bad. The guy from Block L actually got transferred to a different prison, and Whisk was thrown in solitary for three weeks. And now, he doesn’t really talk anymore. Not to us, not to anyone. Except maybe Tony.”

“Wait, all that because he was alone with another prisoner? You did that to me in my first month.” Jack frowned.

“Not—” Bitty ran a hand through his hair, “not just _alone_ , Jack. _Together_.”

It took a second for Jack to realize what Bitty was getting at. He was sure the realization must have shown on his face because Eric flushed a little and glanced away. Jack tried really hard not to read into his reaction.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one who needs an apology… and I doubt Connor would accept one from you.” Bitty cracked a wry smile. “No offense.”

Jack smiled back at him. “Anyway, you shouldn’t have to worry about that. I’m only here to make sure you’re okay. You went through fucking hell last week. 

“You have no idea.” Eric laughed a little, and Jack was starting to catch on to him using cheeriness as a way to deflect.

“I could. If you talked to me.”

“Why do you even care?”

That caught Jack off guard a little, remembering himself asking Bitty that what felt like ages ago. Although, that meant he knew exactly how to respond.

“Because you aren’t going to make it in here alone.”

Bitty went wide eyed and sucked in a quiet breath. “Oh.”

Jack took another step towards him, but this time Eric didn’t move away. His heart was thrumming in his chest, and he knew logically they should leave before they get caught based on what Bitty just told him. _Only a little longer,_ he told himself.

“Are you okay, Eric?”

“No.” Bitty broke his gaze and shook his head. “No, I’m not, because being in that cell—fuck, being _alone_ —for that long forced me to think about a lot of things I had been avoiding thinking of since getting locked up here, and now I _can’t stop thinking about them_. It’s like I’m losing my mind.”

Jack wrapped his arms around Bitty tightly. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

They stood like that for probably longer than they should have to be safe, but eventually Bitty pulled away to make it to dinner prep on time. Jack watched him go with a soft warmth in his heart that almost outweighed his concern for the other man. It wasn’t until Bitty had fully left that Jack realized he still hadn’t said anything to him about his appeal. _Shit_.

He then also remembered he originally came in there to use the bathroom.

At dinner, Eric was all smiles again, but his eyes were warmer, more honest when they met Jack’s from the other side of the grating. Jack stayed mostly quiet as they ate with the others. He watched Bitty move as he talked with the rest of Block S, and not for the first time since arriving to the prison, Jack wondered if he was getting too far in over his head. Shitty nudged him and flashed him a questioning look. Jack shrugged.

“I’m glad he’s back, Shits.”

“Yeah, me too, Jackarooni.”

That seemed to placate Shitty well enough, but it made Jack worry. His eyes fell on Connor, sitting apart from everyone at a different table, and it reminded him exactly how dangerous things could be in their situation.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: vague descriptions of a brief panic attack

It was breakfast when things changed.

Bitty sat next to Jack on purpose that morning, and despite his wish that he had gotten to spend all morning with him, Jack decided to appreciate the little things. By the way Bitty kept elbowing Jack with that soft and almost playful smirk on his face, Jack imagined that Bitty was missing their former routine too. 

Birkholz was telling a funny story from when he and Oluransi were in college when Jack noticed three guards talking quietly by the cafeteria entrance and blatantly watching their table. He could feel the cold sweat on the back of his neck as the worst case scenarios ran through his head, and his hand cletched a little harder around his fork. Bitty nudged him again with a soft laugh at something Adam said. Jack barely registered the conversation, let alone the people beside him. The knowledge that he’d been off his anxiety medication for months now only made his already erratic heartrate beat a little faster. 

“Jack?” Bitty frowned, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to respond. To reassure him and just _calm down_.

Shitty gripped Jack’s arm from his other side and used his body to shield the physical contact from the guards. “Yo, Jack. Zimmermann. What’s up?” 

Jack swallowed hard and broke his eyes away from the guards, focusing on Shitty’s face.

“Good. Look at me. Deep breaths. Come on. One…”

Eventually, his breaths came back under control. Jack felt the tension ease out of his muscles, but he knew he’d likely have a stiff neck and a headache for the rest of the day. He shakily downed the rest of his water from his breakfast and let out a long exhale.

“Are you good?” Shitty looked worried, and Jack’s stomach twisted with guilt.

“Yeah. Sorry. I... The guards keep looking over here.”

Shitty turned back to the three guards, releasing his grip on Jack’s arm, and frowned. “Fuckers.” 

Jack turned back to Bitty, who was watching him very carefully. He looked immensely worried, and Jack found himself wishing he could brush all his frown lines away. He shelved that thought and glanced around at the rest of their table. They all wore matching looks of concern that Jack definitely did not want to handle. Luckily, Shitty started on a well-worn rant about the injustices of the guards in prison complexes that seemed to distract almost everyone. Everyone except Bitty.

“Are you really okay?” Bitty kept his voice low so only Jack could hear him.

Jack nodded. “Yeah. I, uh, I’ll talk to you about it later. Can you meet me in the bathroom once you clean up from lunch?” He made sure he kept his voice equally low. 

“Okay.” 

He could see the nervousness underneath the worry in Bitty’s eyes. Jack understood that now. 

The guards moved then. They walked over to their table, slow and deliberate, and Jack begged his body to calm down before he had another panic attack. Shitty’s mouth snapped shut when he saw them, and their whole table stayed silent.

“Zimmermann.” Hall gestured for Jack to stand, which he did, albeit hesitantly. “Come with us. The warden wants a word with you.”

Jack collected his tray to drop by the return station on his way out, but glanced back at their table before leaving the cafeteria. His eyes found Bitty’s, wide and filled with fear.

The warden was not the kind of person Jack expected. He was actually a very average man who looked close to Jack’s age by the name of Johnson, perched behind a mahogany desk with a largely unreadable expression. Johnson gestured for Jack to sit and motioned for the guards to leave.

“Sir,” Murray protested, “we shouldn’t leave you alone with a prisoner.”

Johnson waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. Zimmermann hurting me isn’t part of this plot-line. You can wait outside while I speak with him.”

Murray looked like he wanted to protest again, but Hall and the other guard indicated that they should just do as the warden said.

When the door shut, Johnson leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk. “I never expected to be the warden of a prison, but there really wasn’t any other character who could fill this role. So here I am.” 

“Uh… okay?” Jack frowned.

“We got a call from your lawyer, Zimmermann.  Unsurprisingly, your case is officially going back under court review for an appeal.”

Jack blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yes. Things are looking up. Or are they? This should be good news.”

Johnson was right. This _was_ good news, but Jack’s mind wandered back to what it would mean to be free again. There were people he met here he didn’t want to lose, criminals records be damned.

“It is.” Jack said with a soft smile. He didn’t need the warden to know about his second thoughts. “I’m innocent, and I’m glad someone is finally listening to me about that.”

“More people believe you than you may think.” Johnson grinned. “Anyway, I’ve fulfilled my duty to this story, so you can go now. The guards with escort you back to your block.” 

Jack's mind spun as he was escorted back down the long cement hallway. He was having trouble wrapping is mind around that this might be one of the last few times he'd have to see these halls. Internally, he made the decision to finally invest in some decorations for his condo like George and everyone had been begging him to do because he couldn't stand the thought of his home looking anything like this hellhole. The guards dropped him off at Black S, although most of its residents were already off at their respective work stations after breakfast. He quickly scanned the room, hoping to catch Bitty, but Jack didn’t see him. Finding his way over to Eric’s bunk, he only saw Chow resting on his bed.

He looked up and grinned. “Oh my gosh, Jack! You’re back! What happened? Everyone lost their _shit_ when you left.”

“I, uh, my case is under review with a judge. Officially. So I might be getting out soon.” 

“Whoa, really? That’s awesome! I kinda wish that would happen to me, but they literally have me on video inside the penguin enclosure after closing, so—”

“Chris, where’s Eric?” Jack felt a little bad about cutting Chow off, but at least that was a story he had heard before.

“Oh, Bitty? He said he was going to the bathroom, but that was a little while ago? So I don’t know if he’d still be there. I mean, unless—”

Jack stepped out of the nook. “Thanks.”

He hurried down the hall to the bathroom, keeping a watchful eye out for any guards. Bursting through the bathroom door probably a little more forcefully than necessary, Jack stumbled a little when he saw Bitty jump. They stared at each other for a moment, both wide eyed and breathing a little hard.

Bitty broke the silence first. “Dear lord, you just about scared me to death, Mr. Zimmermann. What with you charging in here like that.”

“Are we alone?”

“Yes.” Bitty’s eyes softened a little. “I double checked when I first got here.”

Jack shut the door. “Sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologize, honey. I startle easy.”

“No, I mean about what happened with the guards at breakfast.” Jack fidgeted a little. “I know that must have been hard for you.”

Bitty turned to face the mirrors over the sink and sighed. “I was worried. But more worried for you than anything.”

“I have anxiety. I, uh…” Jack hesitated when Bitty met his eyes again. “When I saw the guards staring at us, I thought about when they hauled you away… and I had a panic attack. Usually, it takes a lot more to do that when I'm actually taking my medication for it, but because I was brought in on a drug related charge…”

“They won’t give it to you.” Bitty crossed the room and gave Jack’s chest a soft pat. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Jack flashed him a small smile. “It’s okay. Things are actually easier than I thought they would be.”

“How come?”

“Well, I didn’t expect to meet you.” 

Bitty’s eyes widened a little. “Oh.”

Between all the changes happening and the cold fear he felt when Bitty was in solitary, Jack knew that if he didn't do something now, he was going to walk out of this prison and out of Eric Bittle's life altogether. He hadn't wanted to think about why that thought bothered him so much, despite how obvious it had been, but some things can't be ignored without Jack spending the rest of his life regretting his choices. And he wasn't going to do that a second time. Before he could talk himself out of it, Jack leaned down and kissed Bitty while he had the chance. Everything was going to change again, but Jack wouldn’t—no, couldn’t—leave without telling Bitty how he felt. He could hear his Uncle Wayne in the back of his head saying something about shots not taken. He pulled back, but Bitty leaned in a little further, and Jack was kissing him again.

Pulling away, Bitty blinked back a few tears. “We can’t.”

“I’m so s—”

“Don’t you _dare_ apologize for kissing me, Jack Zimmermann.” Bitty beat his hand on Jack’s chest for emphasis. “It’s… oh, I wish we hadn’t met under these circumstances."

“I know.” Jack stole Bitty’s hand and softly kissed his knuckles. “Especially since I’m getting out soon.”

“You’re—wait, the appeal went through? Is that what happened when you left with the guards?” Bitty shone with excitement, but then the reality of the situation set in. 

“Bits…" 

“I still have two years left on my sentence.”

Jack pulled Bitty close. “We’ll figure this out, Bud. I promise. I am not giving you up.”

Bitty couldn’t stop the sob that flew out of him, and he felt ridiculous for crying into Jack’s shirt. Jack clutched him closer and hoped they had the time before anyone came and found them. He was torn—he wanted to be excited about the possibility of getting released and his record expunged, but his heart was breaking having to leave Bitty behind. Even if they did try and keep in contact through what little means Bittle would have, it would still be two years before Jack would get to even kiss him again. With that thought on his mind, Jack leaned down and kissed him again before he never got another chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *stares at the end of this chapter wondering why I'm like this*


End file.
